


Strange How You Know Me

by youreyestheyglow



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, M/M, but not in very much detail so, probably smut later on
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-18
Updated: 2013-10-23
Packaged: 2017-12-29 16:52:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1007786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youreyestheyglow/pseuds/youreyestheyglow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is set after 9.2 (there is no 9.3 and no love interest WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT I CAN’T HEAR YOU LALALALA)<br/>And seriously, listen to that song. Look up the lyrics if you have to. And then try and tell me that it doesn’t describe Destiel to a T.</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Eric’s Song](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/29261) by Vienna Teng. 



> This is set after 9.2 (there is no 9.3 and no love interest WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT I CAN’T HEAR YOU LALALALA)  
> And seriously, listen to that song. Look up the lyrics if you have to. And then try and tell me that it doesn’t describe Destiel to a T.

"Thank you," Cas said earnestly to the woman who had driven him down. "For everything. I am more greatful than you could ever know."

The woman smiled at him in confusion. "Are you sure this is where you want to be? It's kind of in the middle of nowhere."

"I know. But this is definitely where my friends are, I'm sure of it."

"Do you need anything? Money? Food? I've got some water bottles and pop-tarts in the back -"

Cas shook his head and patted her hand, wishing that he could comfort with a touch, the way he once had. "My friends are here. They will be able to help me. Thank you again, for everything." He climbed out of the truck. He could feel her eyes on him after he walked away, heading aimlessly into the trees.

He heard her truck rumble away, and changed directions, heading for the door. 

He took a deep breath and sincerely hoped that Dean and Sam were there already. 

He opened the door and walked in.

A dart just barely missed his head. 

"Cas? Dean! Sam! Cas is here!"

Kevin sprang up from behind a couch, dropped the spring-loaded bow, and ran off into the recesses of the bunker. 

There was no need for that, though, because Dean was already barreling down the hallway. He smashed into Cas without bothering to slow down, nearly knocking Cas to the floor. And instantly, it was as though they had never been apart, the distence between them erased more easily than Cas had once killed demons. He wrapped his arms around Dean, feeling Dean's hands squeezing his back like he was trying to meld the two of them into one. "Jesus, Cas," Dean said in the rough voice he only got when he was on the verge of tears. "Took you long enough." He pulled back, grasping Cas's shoulder so tightly Cas wondered if he was trying to pull it off. But it was okay. 

Cas smiled. It was hard, because for some reason his mouth kept turning down like it was forcing back tears. "Dean, I'm so sorry, Metatron tricked me, and I -"

Dean shook his head fiercely. "No, it was my fault. I should have tried to help you. I was so worried about - the demons and hell and closing the gates and Sammy that I didn't even think -"

Cas had the sudden urge to kiss away the tears he could see forming in Dean's eyes. He settled for cupping Dean's cheek in the hand that wasn't hampered by Dean's death grip on his shoulder. "I forgive you. You were worried about Sam. It's fine."

Dean stared at Cas like he was could see into Cas's head and was confused by what he found there. "Why? Why would you -"

"Because I've known you for a very, very long time, and I know that you would do anything for Sam."

Dean didn't appear any less confused. "No, you haven't known me for a very long time. You've known me for - what, four, five years? How old are you again? Five years isn't all that long."

Cas frowned and counted. Five years. "Has it only been five years?"

Dean no longer looked confused, but concerned. "Hey, man, are you okay? Do you need sleep or something? Have you forgotten to eat or drink or -"

"No, no, I just forgot."

Someone patted his shoulder. "Good to have you back, Cas," Sam said with a smile.

Cas frowned. There was an angel in there. "Sam?"

Sam frowned, like there was no reason for Cas to be confused. "Yes?"

"I - um - nevermind. Uh - you look happier than normal, that's all."

Sam smiled at him. "I am. I didn't think it was noticeable." He turned towards Dean. "There's evidence of a demon, next town over. I thought we could check on it in the morning, it's a little late now."

"All right, sounds great, Sammy." Dean clapped him on the shoulder as he returned to wherever he'd come from, which was probably wherever his computer was at the moment.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Cas whipped around to face Dean. "There is an  _angel_ in there," he hissed.

"I know." Dean looked so ashamed, so guilty, Cas wanted to hit himself for opening his mouth. "Ezekiel. Sam's not better yet."

"Does Sam know?" Cas asked gently.

Dean refused to look Cas in the eye, instead ducking his head and running his hand through his hair. "No," he muttered. "Sam would kick him out and die. I had to keep him alive, y'know? I couldn't just let him go -"

Cas grabbed Dean's arm, the only thing he could think of doing short of hugging him again, which he doubted Dean would accept. "It's okay. You did what you had to do."

Dean looked up and examined him, searching his face like he was looking for proof of a lie. "Why do you always forgive me so easily?" he murmured absently. He probably hadn't intended to say it out loud. 

"Dean, where's Sam? I was looking for info on that demon..." Kevin ran up the stairs, carrying a book that was twice as thick as the fifth Harry Potter book. He babbled about something he'd found while Cas considered Dean's words. Why  _did_ he forgive Dean so easily? It wasn't just because he was an angel; even when he had been filled with all the souls in Purgatory, he had still forgiven Dean much more easily than he had forgiven others. Why?

He watched Dean, who listened intently to every word that came out of Kevin's mouth, reading over the passage Kevin showed him like it was the most important thing he'd ever read. 

Dean was a good man. But that wasn't all; there were plenty of good men. 

Kevin went to hunt down Sam. 

"Well, uh, I... I'm gonna go find something for dinner, you're probably hungry," Dean said as he turned away. 

Cas reached out and grabbed Dean's shoulder. Dean glanced back at him. "Dean... wait, I, uh..." he swallowed. "There was a story Gabriel told me once, when I asked why even those living in the desert liked the sun. He said that the sun was good, for most people; outside of the desert, it kept things warm, helped things grow, and provided light. And even in the desert, it provided light and warmth, which could be a reprieve from cold nights. So you see, even where the sun scorched the earth, even in those places where it caused harm as well as good, it was always forgiven, because it was far more good than evil, and it couldn't help what it scorched, because it hurt people only in the process of helping them, and never gave only pain without balm. You - you are like the sun, Dean. Even when you hurt things, you pick yourself up and keep going; you never stop, no matter what harm you cause, you only go out again with the intention of helping. And you help far more than you hurt." 

Cas was absolutely sure that Dean would never stop looking at him like that - like he could not believe for a second that what Cas was saying was true, but also like he could see inside Cas, knew what was going on in his head, and understood that Cas believed it. 

And Dean was right, in a way. Yes, Cas forgave him because he kept going, even when he dragged along his own personal demons in his wake, but he also forgave because Dean knew Cas - knew about all of the ambitions he had worn on his sleeves, all of the things he had planned to do and had failed to do. But Cas would never say that. So in a way, he  _was_ lying; he was lying by omission. 

And then Dean nodded, said "Cool story" in a voice that was more rough than it really should have been, and headed towards the kitchen. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas finds out that Dean can cook, and things go downhill while fighting an ancient ghost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this took a really long time to write. sorry about that.

Cas remembered a time in his life when he would watch Dean sleep. It had been so foreign an action to him; he had never needed to takae several hours a day to recharge. The idea that a person like Dean, so angry and rough and kind and sad, could ever sleep, shocked him. He had not been able to figure out how Dean, always on edge and fighting, could ever settle into vulnerability like that. But he had enjoyed watching Dean's face settle peacefully into lines of exhaustion and silence instead of the furrows brought on by constant stress and anxiety. 

Now, Cas slept. Up until that night, he had been confused; Dean and Sam always slept in such stillness and calm, but Cas had had vivid nightmares in which Metatron took his grace over and over again, and Dean faught and died for him over and over again, and Dean wouldn't look at him because he was disappointed and angry with Cas. He had awoken in the middle of the night, sweating and terrified, sometimes mid-apology, sometimes with tears dripping down his face, sometimes with all of the above. He had assumed that Dean and Sam were simply used to the nightmares, and could sleep through them.

But that morning, when Dean peeked his head around the door and said "Up an' at 'em, we've got a demon to gank," Cas woke up in a state of peace he had not known since he had been an angel listening to Gabriel tell stories. 

He dressed quickly that morning, more awake than he had been since his grace had been taken from him. He left his room silently. Unlike the many motels he had stayed in and the one abandonned house in which he had taken refuge, the door did not creak. He hovered around the door to the kitchen for a few minutes, listening first to the silence, and then to Sam's gentle intrusion on it.

"So, I guess you're happy he's back, huh?"

"'Course I am, why?"

"You didn't have any nightmares last night."

There was a pause before Dean's confused "What?"

"You scream in your sleep."

" _What_?"

"I didn't want to tell you. But I didn't hear a thing last night."

"You - you can hear me from your room?"

"If you're screaming? I could probably hear you in the garage," Sam retorted. "Quick tip - don't bring any girls back here, I don't want to listen."

The conversation died off, although Cas could practically hear Dean's embarrassment. He chose that moment to enter, wishing them both good morning as though he hadn't heard their entire discussion. 

"Y'want eggs?" Dean asked. 

"Yes, please, if you don't mind."

"Scrambled or fried?"

"Scrambled." Cas glanced over at Sam in confusion. 

Apparently understanding Cas's unspoken confusion, Sam answered him. "He can actually cook, yes. And it's pretty good."

Dean paused to throw Sam a dirty glance. " _Pretty_ good? I cook like Gorden Ramsey."

"Angrily?"

"And  _awesomely_."

Kevin entered, still in his pajamas and rubbing his eyes. "I want scrambled eggs, too," he said in a voice that was still cracking with sleep.

"Yup." Dean added two more eggs. "Cas, how do you like yours? Wet? Dry? With ham? Broccoli?"

"I don't know," Cas answered truthfully. "I've never eaten eggs before."

That caused Dean to stop, drop the fork in the bowl, and turn to face him. "You've never had  _eggs_? What have you been eating for breakfast since you - uh -became - humanish?"

"Cereal. Or nothing. I forgot to eat breakfast the first morning or two, and I didn't have any money for breakfast yesterday."

Dean stared at him sadly. "That is heart-breaking. You're about to eat the best eggs you've ever tasted."

"I've never tasted -"

"Shh. That's beside the point."

Kevin grinned. "That means I get the good eggs too," he muttered. 

But Sam had caught Cas's attention. He hadn't stopped staring at Dean since he had dropped the fork, his eyebrows pulled together like he was solving a particularly difficult problem. He glanced at Cas, and a flash of realization lit his eyes. He smiled a little and turned back to his laptop. 

Cas glanced at Kevin, who sat examining the table in the way only a tired human being can, as though it was simultaneously the most fascinating thing in the world and the only thing simplistic enough to hold his attention. He appeared to have noticed nothing.

It was really Sam's smile that bothered Cas. What had been funny? Dean had actually looked heart-broken. That wasn't amusing in the slightest.

Minutes later, Cas had hardly begun to unravel the puzzle of Sam's smile when Dean dropped a plate of eggs in front of him, steaming hot with ham, cheese, and broccoli. Cas looked up to see the little smirk of pride Dean tried to suppress when he thought he'd done something good but wasn't quite sure. "Try a bite."

With a nervous glance at Kevin - who had already burned his tongue - Cas took a bite. 

"Well?"

"Mmm."  _Perfect_.

"Mmm? What does that mean?"

"This is the best thing I've ever tasted."

Dean wore his smirk proudly now, and swaggered back to the oven to clean off the frying pan. "Toldja I make the best eggs."

Sam chuckled, but there was no mystery behind this; Dean and Sam were always irrationally happy when the other was proud of himself. Cas felt perfectly justified in devoting his attention to his plate of eggs. 

Kevin dropped his plate in the dishwasher and left, presumably to dress. 

"I think this is the most leisurely morning we've ever had," Sam commented as he scrolled, eyes flickering back and forth over something he was reading. 

"It's weird, especially since we're on our way to gank a ghost."

"What are we killing?" Cas asked.

Sam and Dean shared a glance. "Are you sure you want to come with us?" Dean asked gently. "You look - well, to be honest, you look like crap. Are you sure you don't want to just - spend the day here? Kevin's staying, you could help him out."

Cas shook his head. "No. I - I can't -" the thought of sitting there with Kevin, knowing Dean was out there fighting a ghost while angels and demons and Abbadon were searching for him, while he had an angel inside his oblivious brother - no. "I would much rather come with you."

Dean looked like he was about to say no, but Sam shrugged. "Why not?"

Dean sighed like he'd aged thirty years. "All right. We're going after a ghost that's been in this house since it was built, hundreds of years ago. Pretty sure his name is -"

"Wait, didn't you say yesterday that there was evidence of a  _demon_?" Cas interrupted.

Dean nodded. "We thought it was a demon, because there were reports of the smell of sulfur, but Kevin unearthed a book by the Men of Letters about local weird shit. Turns out, the place has smelled like sulfur since they wrote the book, and everything else they wrote down points towards a ghost. Dude named Richard Hardy - racist, sexist, son-of-a-bitch. His roof collapsed on him one night, and he stuck around. No one's been able to fix up or destroy the house. Most people who go in there come out dead, or don't come out at all. The Men of Letters managed to get in and out, but they chaulked it up to the fact that they're white dudes, which is probably true. We're all white dudes, so we should be fine getting in, but killing it'll still be pretty hard. We've already got iron crowbars and salt in the trunk, and we know he was cremated, so we've got to figure out what he's attached to -"

"Oh, I think I figured that out," Kevin interrupted as he entered the room. "Apparently there's this pipe he used to smoke all the time, it disappeared after he died. If he figured out how to move things, he could have hidden it."

"Good work, Kev." Dean clapped him on the shoulder.

"Do you have your knife? So that you can kill demons if they appear?"

Dean pulled it out of his sleeve, throwing it up so that it flipped around in circles before he caught it. "Got your angel sticker?"

Cas pulled it out of his belt. "I guess we're ready to go then." Admittedly, he was  _slightly_ nervous; he had never before gone to fight without his angelic powers. Of course, he had dealt with that over the past couple days, but this time he was purposely going into a fight, instead of actively avoiding violence the way he had been. 

"Right then." Dean appeared nervous. "Are you sure you want to come with us?"

"Yes." He followed Dean out to the garage, where the Impala sat, holding its own in the middle of perfectly-kept cars. He sat in the back, remembering that he couldn't simply fly away if things got too difficult, and that he had to open and shut the doors now. These things had become a part of his life over the past few days, but somehow, they hadn't hit him so hard until now, when he was surrounded by things he had known as an angel. 

The drive to the ghost's house was short, and Dean turned the music up. Cas recognized some of the newer songs - usually, the ones Dean didn't know. Dean knew every word to the older songs, usually the ones Cas didn't recognize, the ones Cas had been in Heaven for. Sam hummed along absentmindedly at times, but he had brought the book Kevin had found, and seemed engrossed in it. Cas almost wished Sam wasn't there; he wanted to sit in the front seat, next to Dean. But between himself and Sam, Sam was the more experienced hunter, and more valuable on this hunt than Cas was.

The house was old, decrepit; it might have fallen over any second. Newly cognizant of his own mortality, he chose to take comfort from the fact that dozens of other people had entered without causing the house's destruction. He chose to ignore the fact that most of them had died anyway.

The door was already open, most likely because it was falling off its hinges. Dean went first, crowbar held in front of him; Sam went last, carrying a bag of salt under his arm. Cas, with packets of salt and a lighter in his pocket, held a crowbar, feeling small in a way he had never felt before, standing between the two tall, bulky men, who were far more accustomed to their humanity than he was. 

Dean told them to split up, which Cas thought was foolish; it would make it easier for their opponents to pick them off. But all the same, he went upstairs, crowbar held in a strangely steady hand as he pushed open creaking doors. 

Fortunately, he found nothing.

Unfortunately, Dean _and_ Sam did. 

He heard Sam yell a split second before he heard Dean, from opposite sides of the house. 

He didn't make a decision, although he supposed he _did_ choose. 

He just ran to Dean. 

He sprinted down the stairs, taking them two at a time, forgetting that they were rickety and could fall apart at any minute, forgetting that he had never taken stairs two at a time, forgetting that falling now could incapacitate him. He ran, and found Dean struggling - not with a ghost, but with a demon. 

Sam made a noise from the other room, and it wasn't good - it sounded like something had hit him in the head. 

Something flew towards him, and he ducked, cursing his instincts as he did - it was Dean's knife, the knife that he could use to kill the demon. He ran for it, but too late - a second demon kicked it away. 

Cas's mouth moved faster than it ever had before, saying what Dean was unable to say - the lines of the exorcism. He spat them out as he fell backwards, tripping on - a pipe. Was this - 

The demon came at him, eyes black. Cas grabbed the pipe and swung it, still flying through the lines. He hit the demon in the head, causing it to scream - it was just a pipe, why -? But - the exorcism had begun to kick in. He heard both demons screaming, and he heard Dean gasp in air. "Cas -" he gasped, voice rough. "The pipe!" He coughed and picked up the exorcism. Cas ripped open the salt packets, and -  _now_ his hands chose to shake - filled it, for the most part, with salt. He registered that the screaming and chanting had stopped, but he kept clicking the lighter, which wouldn't  _light -_

Dean took it from him, more gently than Cas would have expected, under the circumstances. He clicked it on in one try, and held the flame to the pipe. It caught quickly, and there was a huff from the other room. Dean's head shot up. "Sammy?" he called. "Make sure that burns to ashes," he said as he straightened up and ran out of the room. 

Cas watched it burn for the next several seconds. Each moment that passed put Cas more on edge, knowing that there could be more demons, or angels, or Abbadon, or any number of things - maybe this wasn't the object the ghost was attached to, maybe it was something else, maybe - 

Sam followed Dean back into the room, but - "Ezekiel."

Ezekiel in Sam's body nodded at Cas, an awkward tilt of the head that Sam never would have done. "Castiel."

"What happened?"

"Three demons and a persistent ghost. Thank you, by the way, for burning that pipe. I rid the room of the demons, but the ghost would not go."

"How are you going to explain that to Sam?"

"Sam had already been knocked out by the time I took over. The ghost threw a rather heavy chair at Sam's head. He never saw the demons. He never has to know."

Dean looked angry, guilty, relieved, and horrified, all at the same time. It was an expression Cas had seen on both Dean and Sam many times, but never on anyone else. 

"Sam wouldn't like this, if he knew," Cas said, hating that it caused the guilt in Dean's eyes to grow. "Is he still not well enough to be on his own?"

Ezekiel shook his head. "He was on the verge of death, just days ago. However, most of his inner organs have regained their ability to function on a basic level, and in all likelihood he will be able to survive on his own in a few days."

The guilt in Dean's eyes didn't subside. 

"You will leave him then." Cas stood. He knew he was no longer particularly intimidating, especially not with his height as compared to Sam's, but he felt the need to do  _something_. 

Ezekiel nodded. The resolve in his eyes looked promising. Cas chose to trust him. 

Dean rubbed his forehead. "All right. We'll stick as close to the truth as possible, to make it harder for one of us to slip up. Sam got hit in the head. We'll say the ghost tried to strangle him - which looks like it's true -" he eyed the red mark around Sam's neck. 

Ezekiel nodded again. "That was when I took over."

"Right. The ghost tried to strangle him. Meanwhile, I was searching this room, and found the pipe in there -" he pointed at an open drawer in the desk. Cas could see evidence that the bottom had been smashed - a false bottom. "-but then a demon came out of abso-fucking-lutely nowhere, and in the struggle I lost the pipe. Cas was already downstairs, saw the demon, saw it throw my knife, saw the second demon, started the exorcism, tripped over the pipe. I took over when the demon lost its grip on me, and Cas burned the pipe, killing the ghost before it could kill Sammy. All we're eliminating is the demons who tried to kill Sammy, and Ezekiel's existence. Got it?"

Cas nodded. Ezekiel nodded solemnly. "Shall I go sit back down in the dining room so that you can stand over Sam's unconscious body?"

Dean sighed and closed his eyes, but nodded. 

Ezekiel led the way. Dean watched him go, like he was waiting for Sam to turn around and yell at him. Cas paused next to him. "Ezekiel will be in his own vessel soon enough. If not, we will inform Sam of his existence, and Sam will be able to force him out."

Dean sighed again and looked at Cas like he was searching for answers in Cas's eyes. "Not soon enough." He followed Ezekiel, leaving Cas to struggle with the rising urge to hug Dean and kiss away his worries. 


End file.
